


Intertwined: Fingers and Spirits

by Cloudy



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Established Relationship, I've never written Shinichi before pls shoot me, M/M, introspective and sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:02:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6824008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudy/pseuds/Cloudy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saguru and Shinichi wind down together after a hectic day with Saguru's extended family in their favorite way: rereading Sherlock Holmes.<br/>Saguru is honestly just basking in the presence of a person who loves him.</p><p>Inspired by Magpythe's artwork: http://magpythe.tumblr.com/post/144215740167</p><p>Written for SaguShin day, part of dcmkshipweek's Shinichi Shipping Week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intertwined: Fingers and Spirits

Familiar antique cushion at his back, familiar book in hand. Familiar crackling fireplace and familiar bookshelves surrounding him. Blessed, familiar quiet outside the room, visitors having departed and other residents having gone to bed. Less familiar was the weight against his chest, the presence settled neatly between his legs.

Not familiar, but comfortable. Welcome. New in a wonderful way.

“Oi, you alright? I’m finished with the page.” Shinichi almost sounded grumpy, but there was an ounce or two of concern in the level tone.

Not unwarranted concern, either; Saguru always did feel a little off after having to interact with the extended family on his mother’s side. Though, how well did Shinichi realize that yet? It was his first time visiting the Brooks manor with Saguru, first time to become acquainted with the cutthroat socialites that were his relatives.

Amber gaze skimming over long-memorized words on the worn page, Saguru nodded with an apologetic noise from the back of his throat. He brought up his free hand to turn the page of the book they held together, pressing his lips into Shinichi’s tidy-yet-mussed hair, murmuring a favored quotation (underlined, highlighted, circled) against his head. Reading Holmes was always a good way to calm down—but the scent of wisteria and lemon and just a hint of coffee, and the feeling of someone laying against him like this, that did wonders.

Typically what followed the dreaded ‘family gathering’ was a night riddled with insomnia, irate and insecure thoughts bouncing around his head, prompting him to pace and pace the floor and perhaps try to read something, or work through long-unsolved puzzles (and make no progress, only proving to aggravate him further).

Yes, Shinichi’s presence was a welcome change.

“You’ve really marked this thing up, haven’t you?” It was a little jarring to be addressed once more, having thought Shinichi to be engrossed in their reading.

“—What, and you haven’t marked up your _own_ copies of Holmes?”

Shinichi craned his neck back, managing to look up at him (Saguru helped, leaning forward, propping an arm against the couch’s back). “Well, of _course_ I have, you just struck me as the type to—I don’t know, treat books with the _utmost reverence_ , or whatever.” When he said ‘utmost reverence,’ he attempted (and horrifically _botched_ ) some sort of English accent. He couldn’t help but snort; he liked when his boyfriend teased.

“What better way to show that a book is well-loved than interact with it as much as possible? Emphasizing everything I love about the writing, putting down my own thoughts just beside the words—I’d say it’s its own form of reverence.”

Shinichi nodded in silent approval, and Saguru turned the page. Two minutes and thirty-seven seconds later, Shinichi spoke once more.

“You never answered my question.”

Scowled, paused in his reading once more, studied the top of Shinichi’s head. “About…”

“Whether you’re alright.” Shinichi’s head, craning back again. His fringed brushed for a moment against Saguru’s nose. Lemon, flowers, Shinichi had a delightful shampoo.

Saguru regarded him with fondness, tried to feign bemusement but decided against it. “Of course I’m alright,” sincerely, “I have a handsome man laying against me and joining me in perusing my favorite copy of _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_.”

A snort, and then Shinichi wrinkled his nose. “Idiot.” After delicately marking the spot they left off on, he closed the book and it (gently) met Saguru’s face as Shinichi swatted it at him. Saguru made a very valiant attempt to dodge, but could only manage to lean back so far before Shinichi succeeded in his assault anyway.

And then, “It’s just, you seem stuck in your head. Quiet. And I know you don’t like your family, so. You should tell me whether you’re okay.” Shinichi shrugged, said it nonchalantly, like he was actively trying to seem less concerned about it than he actually was. Saguru wondered if the thought had been bothering him for more than the past five or so minutes.

“I’m coming off of the stress,” he murmured. “Honestly, I’m much better than I usually am, after events like this.”

“Better, huh?” There’s something prickly about the way Shinichi says it—not directed at him, though, he knows. Saguru had prefaced this whole visit with the warning that Shinichi would hate most members of the family and the best course of action would be to avoid directly interacting with them as much as possible (it wasn’t that Shinichi was tactless, but it could be easy to misstep around this family, and while they both could handle the drama that might ensue, avoiding it altogether seemed ideal).

“Mm, having someone to relax with…it’s helpful to have you here with me.” Saguru combed his fingers through Shinichi’s fringe.

Satisfied, Shinichi turned his attention back to the book, and Saguru threaded his free hand with Shinichi’s, fingers interlocking.

They continued to read together, occasionally uttering lines that they liked, trying to outdo the other’s Holmes impression, but Saguru’s mind was less on the text and more on Shinichi’s presence.

On the flight over, he’d napped and when he’d awakened, he’d caught himself leaning into Shinichi, also asleep.

At dinner, when one particular aunt was becoming particularly unbearable, Shinichi’s hand had come to rest just above his knee under the table. Saguru had placed his hand atop Shinichi’s. Interlaced fingers—like they were now.

Seventeen minutes and forty-six seconds later, Shinichi’s hand fell slack from the Holmes book. Saguru counted out Shinichi’s breathing, chuckled under his breath. He’d fallen asleep. He hadn’t meant to rest in the reading room tonight, but the couch was comfy enough. Saguru closed the book, set it on the table with care, and just slightly shifted his weight. Shinichi’s hold on his hand tightened.

Yes, company in the form of a kindred spirit was more than enough.


End file.
